I opened your diary rather mistakenly (not) the other day
But I had promised not to read the words, the sentences, and their combined meanings

So I searched for you in the curves of your Fs and the hats of your T's;
In the pages I saw your words fall on the bed of the lines
Some days to the left, some days to the right,
Some days just striving to stand straight;
You changed everyday.

But I found you in the circles you draw on the top of your Is
The ones you draw the same way no matter which side your words fall,
I saw your twisted smile in the Cs and your crazy laugh in the Ds
They were all the same everyday,
Maybe you don't change as much as you think you do.

On the last page I found your attempt to write with your other hand
The one that doesn't have years of practice
And I laughed at how you thought it was fun
To break 20 year old habits.

I opened your diary yesterday, mistakenly, or so I'd like you to think
And as promised, I didn't read your sentences
But I wasn't ready to find you sitting silently
at the ends of the Ys and the Zs
Making fun of me as I searched for you
Between the spaces of your words.